A silly sad soldier who drinks stolen rum
And tastes poetry on his tongue
Stumbles through lost and locked buildings
Mercantile and meaningless as him
He counted up the nights straight he had stopped in this town
The faded edge-burned nights that trailed off into his dreams about women
Some he’d met and some he would after death
Both were nicer in the haunted corridors of his mind though
And he had gotten used to that
One night inside a dank room fraught with electric worries he could only half identify
It was a morning never mind just enough light provided to show
That he had reached to stroke the face of a new love
The thought being the most pleasing he had in many years
The type that to remember gets you misty eyed but you only know its cuz you thought about so much

You sort of wanted to cry to it
He probably would later on from a barely related cause

But that thought…
Her skin felt rough like cotton sheets as his hand pulled away from his pillow
She smelled like his bed
Because she was
And he probably said nothing, didn’t even grunt
Because no one was watching

Bar Hop Beliefs

The field spread out before him a disgusting mix of colors intertwined and mating

Mixed and sexual red of the street light mocking, promising

A felt feeling that never comes

A meant meaning that never feels

Yet he felt and felt until his veins fled the bleeding

Frightened by their own circular work

And he felt that it was momentary and forever

And he knew that the stop light held st benedicts thoughts

And he thought he knew it all, the Guinness, the Indian girl

It all made sense in his system

But it left out tomorrows thanksgiving

The sitting around a bird industrial farmed for commercial interests pure and puerile

A cold rejoinder to pretensions and tortured ethic racks

He took a small breath and bit

His smoky thought containing and obscuring dreams of her that never eased and always burned atop his minds fuel

Tire fire observed and observing by the heat of the blaze distorting faces in the glow

Fret and frer and flame atop his ever burning thoughts

post secondary

Scenesters in skinny jeans
Lesbians in flannel
Sandwich board commies
and that kid with the dreads.
Drum circle daycares
Trash bags of weed
Cramming on pills
Oh, thirsty thursdays!
Blacking out
Getting laid
Shrooming on Sundays
Smokin butts, shitty food
Too long walking in sandals
Mad chill new music
and more boring keggers.
Three bucks in the bank
Ripping down flyers
Newspaper sucks ass
but let’s write a novel.
Taking off semesters
Tuesday night road trips
Don’t think, just go
Student loan payments?
Fuck you college.

summertime

on my way...where am i

back here for a bit
i just got in last week
i found us a sofa
that sits two comfortably
plaid plaid plaid and green

money orders and wireless
internet and cable tv
make lonely nights
and half week days
just melt in your mouth

i stole some cool music
that you probably haven't
heard before i told you
about the way it moves
me and i forget

green shit is big in the
tiny cities on finger lakes
i can be a farmer a
foreigner or storyteller
if i weren't busy couching

houses with crooked frames
and cars parked like
patchwork junk piles
some call it quaint
and pocket my new bic

raining and clear skies
with a nap in between
its so hard to plan for this
kind of weather so just
sleep it off and on and off and off and off

vermont is like a ball pit
full of colors and laughter
and lots of balls
that you
splash into all at once
because it looked so fun

its not very deep, this pit
but you can't walk away
and all you see are flecks
of red and blue and green
and you step on someone
just below the surface

say you're sorry and
remember that this whole
place smells like stale urine
so be sure to wash your hands
and tell yourself they must be dreaming

leaving someday is always an option
that you could just be gone like that
oh what a dream and such a
great story to tell another new friend
you meet at a gas station in rutland

at last you arrive somewhere
after driving all night full speed
eye drops and a brisk walk
to shake off the road a bit
but you look like shit

home sweet home you grin
and look at the newness around you
you mumble profanity and reach
for your cigarettes as you read the
fragmented words painted on a rock
in every single color that you have
to squint to read

take only photos, leave only footprints
help us keep the green mountains green!

without giving that boulder
even a second more
you try to find the nearest thing
tall fast or sharp enough
to kill you on the first try
but it never will.

Credit Report

A mother and her son sat on the front steps of their home
She opened the mail. a cigarette
He watched the grass. summer time

What are they doing? What are they thinking? Where is she anyway?
She asked
About the girls

Questions
With the answer in
The asking of the question

He answered anyway, about asides and in analogy
She sort of listened. tore junk mail
And they joked and smiled

She opened a letter from the high school

Your child,_____, has been absent (52) days from U.S. History. a new record

Christ she said. that girl
Nothing new
She drew upon her cigarette. every class
. a letter for every class

He patted her knee
she’ll be fine. she’ll be fine

Gus poked out his head from behind a bush
All droopy and tired eyed

Hi gus
Hi gus

She said oh my god!

Those bastards she said
What he asked
What. what!

There was another letter open in her hand
I thought we were finally getting our shit together she said

What
He asked. what!

They declined us. oh
He put his arm over his mother’s shoulder
I guess that means we gotta get a cheaper car he said. no shit

An old woman turned the corner
She was old and wore a jogger’s suit and jogged in the middle of the street.

Gus ran across the street to meet her
Guuus
They said
And his mother stood up
Fast out to get him
Don’t worry!
He’s a very friendly dog!

The old lady looked up
Still jogging and said
Don’t worry
I’m not afraid
Smiled
Made kissing noises to Gus and jogged away.

Three pleats

You look even more than last time
Throwinround that belt
Sun glasses and your smile

Look
and smile

Paying attention and not
Paying attention to you’re
Fishnets
Finishing right below your
Skirt thighs
Thick bands
Keeping snug on your legs
And that thick black leather
Belt
You passed around

To sit who could fit it